


The Beginning of the End

by masked



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse, Angst, Multi, Recreational Drug Use, Sex Mentions, what you'd usually expect out of endverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 07:47:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2059866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masked/pseuds/masked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s odd.”</p>
<p>The man shrugged, and took few inhales of his own. “You’ll get used to it.”</p>
<p>Castiel disagreed. He wouldn’t need it anymore after his leg had healed. Now that Sam wasn’t present, he, more than anybody, needed to keep a clear head for Dean. The drug made him numb, and more than anything he would like to <i>stay</i> numb, but he couldn’t.</p>
<p>He had to keep his head clear and he had to stay with him to the end. He had to.</p>
<p>He didn’t know what else he could do at this point.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Beginning of the End

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the commemoration of endverse week. Thank you [Holly](http://crossroadscastiel.tumblr.com/) who looked after it.

The first time he ever lit up a joint was two days after Camp Chitaqua was officially set up.

“Works better than the shit you’ve been downing, I bet.” The man had said, his breath stinking of cigarette.

Castiel almost coughed up his lungs, the smoke going down the wrong way on his first inhale and his eyes watering from the tangy taste at the back of his throat.

“The trick is to hold the smoke for a bit first, man.” He’d say. “Won’t do anything if you blow it out right after.

After few more tries, Castiel was sure he did it right. He wasn’t sure if he liked it better than the pain meds he’d been taking for his injured leg. He’d smacked his lips in contemplation. “It’s odd.”

The man shrugged, and took few inhales of his own. “You’ll get used to it.”

Castiel disagreed. He wouldn’t need it anymore after his leg had healed. Now that Sam wasn’t present, he, more than anybody, needed to keep a clear head for Dean. The drug made him numb, and more than anything he would like to _stay_ numb, but he couldn’t.

He had to keep his head clear and he had to stay with him to the end. He had to.

He didn’t know what else he could do at this point.

* * *

Their first mission was to an abandoned church. Castiel felt a lump of lead in his chest at the thought, but he said nothing to refute when Dean had asked him to come along.

He asked with his head in his hands, his voice too loud in the silence of the night. “This is all so new and... I don’t know how to be a leader and I—”

“We’ll be fine.” Castiel reassured with a squeeze of his shoulder. Dean’s tensed shoulders slumped, and Castiel was glad he could still offer something like relief.

He was still a bit clumsy with a gun, but he had plenty of chance to learn. He was only glad Jimmy had the chance to enter heaven before the virus broke out, and out of all the things he’d witnessed, this wasn’t one of them.

It was evident that whoever used to be in the church tried to barricade against the people who’d been infected, who they’ve now coined as Croats. The plan was to raid as many rosaries as possible in case they needed to deal with demons on top of everything else.

Castiel stood in front of the ruined altar while others searched high and low for the rosaries. He gazed upon the Son of God figure hung on the wall, and he wondered where his Father was in the midst of this chaos. He had many questions, but he knew they were useless at this point. Did He truly abandon him and the rest of human race, he wondered, and if so, did He care at all?

There had to be a revelation. There had to be some way to—to fix this somehow. There had to be. He prayed for Sam, who was at the other end of the Earth, and he hoped—

A hand on his shoulder startled him out of his thoughts. The distinct sound of gunshots echoed through the air. “Cas, c’mon, man! We need back-up at the front!” Dean barked.

Castiel had no room for useless thoughts after that. He couldn’t afford the luxury.

* * *

“Dean, you _can’t_ blame every death on yourself. It wasn’t your fault that—”

“I said _drop_ it.” Dean snapped, slamming the gun on the desk.

Castiel left the hut in a huff, his legs, his _useless_ human body not carrying him away fast enough. The frustration boiled until his face became numb from the way his jaw locked in place, and he leaned against the wall of the hut to breathe, to calm down, to not think about the way his body ached everywhere.

“Trouble in paradise, huh?”

Castiel’s eyes snapped open at the voice, nothing but white noise occupying his head. “Zachariah. How did you—”

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” He drawled, his eyes roaming Castiel from the top to his toes, and Castiel wished nothing more than to disappear. “Though I must say, that form is quite becoming of you, Castiel.”

Castiel’s nails dug into his hands as he clenched his fists, doing his best to not let the shame get to him. He chose this, and he had no right to feel shame for it. “What do you want?”

“Oh re _lax_ , I’m not here to hurt you.” Zachariah rubbed his chin with the air of nonchalance, and Castiel wished he could hurt him, hold his neck in place and choke him to death, or anything else to inflict pain on him. “I’m just here to tell you something out of the goodness of my heart.”

Taking Castiel’s silence as the cue, Zachariah continued. “We’ll be leaving tomorrow.”

Castiel blinked. “What?”

“Wait, sorry, that was a bit cruel of me, wasn’t it? Me, and the rest of the angels stationed on Earth will be leaving tomorrow. Of course, _you’re_ not invited. Heaven doesn’t open its gates to traitors, you know. ” Zachariah nodded to himself with a satisfied smile on his face. “Goodbye, Castiel. We’ll probably see each other, oh, never.”

Without more words, Zachariah left Castiel standing by himself, screaming at the sky.

Nobody answered him.

* * *

Before the week was up, Castiel knew his grace had completely faded after his ties with Heaven was permanently severed.

For the first time since his existence, Castiel cried for himself, alone in his cabin.

He chose this.

* * *

He didn’t expect Dean to come after him storming out of his hut. He knew that, and yet somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he wanted it, wanted Dean to stumble out of the bed and string out some kind of an explanation. Something, _anything_ to show he—

He should’ve knocked. It wouldn’t have mattered, but maybe Dean would’ve warned him, if not for his sake, for the woman in bed with him and he wouldn’t have—

He shouldn’t care. He shouldn’t, because it wasn’t like it meant anything. It wasn’t like _they_ meant anything it wasn’t like he cared _before_ it wasn’t like—

The bottle of his leftover pain meds caught his eyes, and his hands moved before he knew what he was doing. He swallowed down the pills and sank into his chair, staring up at the ceiling with his limbs stretched out.

His stomach twisted, and he felt cold sweats breaking out at the back of his neck. He was numb inside out, and he welcomed it.

* * *

“Since when do you smoke?”

Castiel startled and blinked up at Dean from the floor. “Since when do you care?”

Dean shifted his weight, and Castiel narrowed his eyes through the haze. Ah, he’d made him uncomfortable. He didn’t know he was still capable of it.

He took another draw form the blunt. “Did you want something?”

This seemed to rub Dean the wrong way for some reason. His whole body tensed at Castiel’s tone, and his rigid shoulders told the rest. “We found Chuck and he’s here now. I figured I’d ask what we should do with him.”

Castiel stared. “Why are you asking me? You’re the—” He waved his hand at Dean’s general direction. “The fearless leader. It’s very becoming of you, by the way.”

Dean’s jaw twitched and his lips thinned, but didn’t comment on it otherwise. “You’re the angel.”

Castiel smiled. He wondered if it looked as hollow as he felt. “Not anymore.”

This honestly seemed to take Dean by surprise, and for a split moment, Castiel saw a trace of the man he Fell for, shining through underneath it all. Perhaps it was why he, the fool that he _still_ was, decided to comfort him despite everything.

“It was inevitable, Dean.” Castiel soothed, the _it wasn’t your fault_ between the lines.

“Still, I...” Dean slumped down to Castiel’s level. Castiel found it a little hard to focus. “I’m sorry, Cas.”

“ _No_.” Castiel replied sharply, and Dean visibly recoiled with shock. “You don’t get to apologize in my expense. _You_ , out of all people are not allowed to apologize for—for this.” He gestured to himself. “You have no right.”

Dean’s face fell, and his shoulders slumped, all the fight leaving him. “I know.” He muttered.

“ _Stop_. Stop making this about _you_ , you have _no_ right to—” Castiel struggled through the haze, willing the words to come with clenched fists, the blunt forgotten on the floor. His vision blurred, and he didn’t want Dean here anymore, he wanted him to go away and leave him alone in the numb bliss, he wanted Dean to stop looking at him like he was a wounded animal to be _pitied_ out of all the people and—

They were kissing. Dean kissed him like he was fragile, and Castiel hated it. He didn’t deserve to treat him like he was something precious after all this, after all _this_ —

“I hate you.” Castiel choked into Dean’s mouth with no real heat, the tears streaming down his face. He weakly hit Dean’s back with his fists as they kissed again. “I despise you.”

“I know.” Dean replied, the kisses on his neck intimate and so out of place with the rest of the world.

They made love on the floor for the first and last time.

* * *

Cas found he enjoyed sex. The post-coital bliss offered a sort of blank the drugs and the alcohol couldn’t achieve. Perhaps it was irony at its best that he was finding out Jimmy was attractive enough to attract a flock of people to his cabin when it was almost the end of the world.

That was just how things went, he supposed.

Cas was, what was the word, actually promiscuous enough to earn his disapproval at some point. He didn’t say anything, but Cas could tell. Sometimes he threw in a snide comment about having a late night, and Cas usually shrugged in reply. He stopped trying to get a rise out of him after the first few times.

He dropped by occasionally, and they fucked occasionally. Quick and dirty, just like how he liked it. There were gaps in between their fuck sessions, probably because he was busy doing leader things and partly probably so people didn’t notice, and there was that one time when Bobby had died. The night they found out Sam said yes involved particularly rough sex.

Only, he let himself be held that night. They didn’t speak of it afterwards, and he left Cas’s side in the morning with no further words. Cas didn’t stop him.

Cas still participated in the raids, similar to how most church-goers routinely went to church on Sundays, but he mostly sat in his cabin. Cas was busy in his own way, with drugs to shoot up and people to please and alcohol to drink.

Cas’s tolerance was unusually higher than what humans would call, well, human, and that pissed Cas off on a whole new level. So Cas drowned himself in whatever he could find with whole bottles of painkillers and too many joints and needles adorning his vein to get that buzz and get away from here.

Once, they’d found a whole unopened bottle of absinthe during a raid, and Cas hoarded it for himself. Some seemed like they wanted to argue, but they laid off after the look Cas sent them. He drank it undiluted on some of his worse nights, when he was alone and bitter and didn’t have enough of everything else to stay blissfully ignorant to the rest of the world. As tacky as it was, he was fond of the colour of the green, green drink and he admired the drinks for a second before he downed them. It burned him and he relinquished in it.

Cas was in the middle of one of his meetings with the girls when he came around again. Strange, since he stopped dropping in during the day anymore. Maybe he’d finally found the Colt. Despite everything, a little corner of himself decided this meeting could go on later.

“Excuse me, ladies. I think I need to confer with our fearless leader for a minute.” Cas said, sending a wink at him. “Why not go get washed up for the orgy?”

He grinned up at him, who didn’t seem to have the usual malice to his pose for some reason and instead shifted in his place like he wasn’t used to the scene in front of him. Like some domesticated tiger. Strange.

Cas rolled his shoulders, letting out a little content sigh at the delicious stretch, and braced himself for whatever he wanted now.

Surely, he was buzzed enough for the conversation.


End file.
